


The Promises We Keep

by LR_Earl



Series: The Sacrifices We Make [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Angst, Explicit Language, F/M, Lupa!Hermione, Smut, Violence, Werewolf Mates, Werewolf!Draco, dark!Ginny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-04-14 07:01:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14130657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LR_Earl/pseuds/LR_Earl
Summary: Ten years after 'The Sacrifices We Make,' Ginny Weasley seeks vengeance for the past. Hermione Granger seeks to protect her mate and pack at all cost. In life and death, we are bound by the promises we keep. Werewolf!Draco, Lupa!Hermione, Dark!Ginny, AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: I will say this once. Ginny Weasley will engage in dark activities in this fic. I am not bashing her, as she's actually one of my favorite characters, but as a result of past circumstances, she is quite broken (see this fic's predecessor 'The Sacrifices We Make'). That is all I will say on the matter. You have been warned. Additionally, there will be very little world-building, as this is a sequel.

Twenty-nine year-old Ginevra Weasley did not dream anymore. If she thought about it, the last time she had was sometime before the war. Pre-second Wizarding War Ginny dreamed about Quidditch championships, her friends, and a future that would never come to past. Now, Ginevra was thankful for a perpetual dreamless sleep because she if she  _did_ dream, visions of what could have been would haunt her.

She knew what awaited her on the other side: a love that never came to fruition; her brothers, Fred and Ron; and, more recently, her mother. All had been taken in their prime. Ginevra attended Molly Weasley's funeral two years ago, but if anyone had asked, she could not remember a single detail about it. The entire time her family grieved, she sat there, frozen and adrift in memory because she just  _knew_ that Molly Weasley had died of a broken heart.

Weasley women were tough by nature, but they weren't infallible. Her mother's death had been the catalyst for everything when she looked over the stops and starts that lead her here. It was as if she had finally,  _finally,_ awakened from a nightmare with a focus so sharp, it stung her insides.

Keenly brought back to the present, Ginevra scuffed the toe of her metal-capped boot in the cold ground as she shifted on her feet, uncertain. She wasn't typically one for melodramatics, but something inexplicable had driven her to the Prewett family graveyard. Duty, or some shit, she guessed. She sighed, frustrated, but determined to see this through.

Tapping her wand against her thigh, she began after several tries, "I've never ascribed to be the perfect daughter. Or friend, or sister, for that matter. I think you knew that. But I did try." Here, she sighed, and forcibly closed her eyes against a pain that wound its way to the surface. She beat it back as she always did and continued, resolved.

"I tried to be fair, even when I didn't receive the same in return." The young woman laughed, full of bitterness and scorn. "They told me to 'move on', you know? Mum and Dad. After you left. But look where it's got them. Mum's gone now, and Dad hasn't been right since. And through it all, I find myself … incapable." She looked off in the distance, lost in memory. Suddenly, she was eighteen again and fighting for her life. She thought she'd fought for justice, and for Harry, but …."I can see it so clearly," she remarked to the wind. "Malfoy and Hermione standing there, on the edge of battle. Oblivious to the lives they'd ruined."

She chuckled, a dark and twisted sound, as she continued, "All so  _she_  could execute  _her_ plan." She looked away as tears suddenly obscured her vision. "It was always about  _her_ ," her voiced cracked as she recalled the bushy-haired witch of her youth. Ginevra had not seen the witch since that final battle on the shores of Shell Cottage. After the Light emerged victorious, she did not stay to celebrate. Admittedly, she ran away from it all, but the pain always followed. It was never far behind.

She twisted the witch's name as if the syllables were poison. "Hermione  _Granger._ Neither you, nor Harry, for that matter, could go five minutes without talking about her." Taking a breath for purchase, she whispered to this side of living, "And look where it's gotten you both …"

Ginevra rubbed the heel of her palm into her eye, refusing to glance at the granite tombstone bearing the name of her deceased brother. His death had rent her soul. "But I never forgot about you," she whispered. "Or Harry. Does  _she_ come to visit you? I wonder, if Malfoy accompanies her? But that wouldn't be right. Your murderer coming to pay respects to the one he killed?" she mocked to the silent granite.

"Mum never spoke about that night at Shell Cottage. Dad tried, but … he couldn't. It hurt her too much. Until it was  _too_ much." Here, she sighed and straightened her shoulders, resolve creeping to cover every inch of her features. "But I didn't come here for that shit. During the war, there was never a proper time to tell you or Harry. Looking back, I guess I was too ashamed to. I'm not any longer." She lifted a freckled hand to eye-level and examined the appendage as if it were a foreign object. "Tom gifted me something all those years ago, in the Chamber of Secrets. Don't worry, I'm not a horcrux, silly," she giggled, imagining her deceased brother's reaction in the afterlife. "Still, it's rather intriguing. It took me a bit to understand why? But after all this time, I think finally I know."

Because dark magic always left behind traces. Always.

Ginevra lowered the hand as it clenched into a fist and wrapped herself in vengeance. Yes, she could name it now. Fierce winds began to pull at her hair, until it flew free, loose and unbound. She had tried waiting her vengeance out, as if it could be ignored, but it was always there. She had tried bargaining against it.

She stopped the day she put Molly Weasley in the ground.

It was then that she knew, finally, what her purpose was. Softly, she admitted to wind, "Neither one of us are innocent. Not anymore." Firmly, she finished, "And I  **swear** to you and Mum, before I leave this earth,  _she_ will remember that." Ginevra took in the memorial her family had erected in Ronald Weasley's memory. She touched the cold stone before swearing, "I promise you that."

She took two steps back before Dis-Apparating away, leaving the howling wind in her wake.

* * *

'Prewett Palace' was anything but a palace, but seeing as Aunt Muriel had bequeathed the decrepit property to Ginevra after her demise, the three-bedroom cottage became her sanctuary these last few years. The cottage sat in the middle of a dense wood, overcome by undergrowth, and surrounded by a poorly-maintained muddy moat. Despite its rugged exterior, she had come to love its antiquated charm. She spent her free time warding and updating the property. She placed it under a  _Fidelius_  charm and made its lone house elf, Tulip, its secret keeper.

After her detour to the Prewett family graveyard, she arrived in the dead of night and pushed past the wards. Like thick syrup, the wards washed over her, welcoming her home. Her pilgrimage complete, she walked over the bridge, charmed to hover across the muddy moat, and entered the rustic dwelling she called home.

A brunette witch with silky black hair looked up at her entrance. "That didn't take long," Cho Chang remarked from her chair. "I didn't expect you back for some time."

Ginerva had crossed paths with the former Ravenclaw at her mother's funeral. The pair quickly bonded over losses they'd suffered during the war. Cho, the dutiful Order member, couldn't fathom how the Order lined up behind Hermione and Malfoy after Ron's murder. She became disillusioned after that. Very quickly, the two connected over past wrongs, and what started as idle conversations, festered and grew slowly into action. Cho, who worked in the Department for Magical Creature Collaboration (or MCC) as it was now called, steadily collected information on Hermione and Malfoy's whereabouts after the war. Through her position, Cho amassed numerous contacts with werewolves and other magical creatures. She had her ear to the ground around tensions that still festered between the Ministry and magical creatures. Ginerva found it deeply satisfying that for all her lobbying, Hermione Granger still had not succeeded in her life's work.

"I finished quicker than I'd expected. You've spoken with Roux?" Ginny nodded her head at Tulip, who promptly started a fire to ward off the September chill. The crisp night air spoke of a brutal winter to come.

The pretty witch smirked into her mug as she took a sip of her tea. "You were right. His pack was eager to join us," Cho replied. "There are factions that are unhappy with Hermione's entrance into their world, even after all this time. They've been quiet because she's the Ministry's darling representative when it comes to magical creatures' rights, and to harm her would negate the progress she's made on their behalf. Not to mention, they fear Malfoy's wrath if anything were to happen to her. They …" she searched for the right word, "…  _respect_  her for the work she does, but it is begrudgingly given. But they fear Malfoy because of his power."

Ginerva perched a brow. "Even if she is mated to Malfoy and is the mother of his children? Is it true she has her own pack of werewolves?"

Cho tilted her head as she carefully chose her words. "Roux doesn't share everything with me because I am unkin, so I can't be sure. There are whispers that she does have her own pack, or that she rules with Malfoy over a large pack hidden within the Forbidden Forest. But Roux would never tell me outright. What I can sense is, his distrust. Werewolves are attracted to power, and there is no denying Malfoy and Hermione's pack is the strongest pack on the isle. Frankly, from what I know, I'm amazed they've managed to maintain their authority all these years. But you can see it in his eyes, there is a jealousy there. They all want what Hermione and Malfoy have."

"Your lover told you all of this?" Ginerva asked as she joined Cho at the table. A mug appeared by her hand. She took a sip and nodded her thanks to Tulip.

"Roux is quite chatty after sex, but what he cannot say out loud, I can read in his body language. But no matter, he has pledged his pack to our cause. He's curious as to what mere witches can do to overthrow the strongest Alpha and Lupa seen in a generation. All the same, he wants them gone."

Ginerva smiled, and pretended to examine her fingernails in earnest. "I bet he is. Tell your lover to lay low. We'll contact him in due time. In the meantime, how many packs does that bring us to?"

"Three now. They're rather small, but it's better than none at all. I'm travelling with a Ministry envoy to Wales this weekend. I'll see if I can discern any other … disaffected packs for our coalition."

Ginerva smirked and took a sip from her mug. "Brilliant."


	2. Chapter Two

Hermione Granger had never been one for rumors. Even at Hogwarts, she ignored the whispers that followed behind her back.

Know-it-all. Swot. Overbearing.

They had called her this, and more, during her formative years.

Now, at thirty years-old, they called her other names.

Lupa. The witch who walked among the werewolves. Mate. Mum.

She surmised the older werewolf before her, however, was not thinking of any of those titles, because the contrary emotion was drawn all over his face. Contempt, wariness, and distrust marked his wizened features.

Still, there was work to be done. Holding her ground, Hermione stared at the older werewolf who pre-dated Fenrir, even though he towered over her. "I don't think you understand what I'm saying," she remarked rather tightly, her patience thin with the Alpha before her. This wasn't her first time treating with stubborn men, magical creature or not, but Ariel Delphi was particular piece of work. The Delphi pack was one of the few packs on the isle that kept to themselves, even after all these years.

A shoulder, firm and warm, brushed against hers in support. Her heart hammered as she drew solace from her mate's quiet presence and she soldiered on despite the temporary setback. Lifting her chin, she proudly exclaimed, "This is the first time the Ministry's granting several key seats on the Wizengamot directly to werewolves. A large enough block will be able to—"

"I understand perfectly what you're saying," Ariel clipped in reply. "Unless you believe me incapable of simple comprehension?" He drew the question out. The threat hung in the air as he stared her down.

Hermione clenched her teeth together. It wasn't often that she ran across blatant distrust, especially as forceful as this. Her time lobbying the Ministry for werewolf rights still highlighted how far left she had to go. Carefully, she replied above her frustration, "You'd willingly refuse to send a representative to the Ministry on behalf of your pack? Why?" she sought the truth.

"Some of us refuse to be trotted out before your beloved Ministry, as if for show." He eyed her meaningfully, the implication sharp enough to make her reel back on a snarl. She might not be a werewolf, but living among them for years on end, she'd naturally picked up a few quirks.

"I'd watch what you say next," Sian interjected from her right. The lean Frenchwoman was Hermione's right-hand woman, acquired from the  _Loup Garou_  years ago. She kept her bright pink hair, a souvenir from a trip to the Muggle world, cropped close to her head. The woman was an unassuming at first glance, but was as quick as she was deadly.

Sian was one part of their small contingent that traveled for pack business. The others were Lavender Brown, and of course, Draco Malfoy.

Ariel crossed his large arms, blocking the group of four from further access to his pack, hidden just beyond the forest's edge. He flicked his head to Draco on her left, chuckling in amusement. "I imagine, she doesn't often hear the word 'no.'"

"You're welcome to find out for yourself," Draco whispered though they heard him well enough. The words were unassuming, but the threat simmered below the surface.

Lavender harrumphed beside Draco in agreement.

" _She_  is perfectly capable to respond for herself," Hermione challenged Ariel directly. Once his gaze swung to her, she continued forcefully, "Slowly, but surely, attitudes are changing at the Ministry. We …" she gestured to her group, then to Ariel before continuing, "… have an opportunity to steer the conversation and ensure gains made in the last ten years are not lost, but expanded upon. This is your chance to be a part of that conversation and have your voice, and the voice of your pack, heard," she implored.

Ariel lowered to occupy her personal space. Draco growled behind her, but not before the werewolf offered his parting thoughts. "They will never see us as more than an animal," he sneered, bearing a bit of tooth. "You speak a good game, and play the part well enough, witch, but the Ministry will only have need of you … until they don't." He drew to his full height and spun on his heel. "I'll pass," he replied as if deciding to skip an unpleasant meal, leaving the foursome on the forest's edge.

"Well, that was rude," Lavender huffed once he had sufficiently moved away. "Can we go home now?"

Hermione peered past the barrier of the trees, her heart clenching at the thought of the men, women, and children who would be left out of progress due to their Alpha's stubbornness. She pressed her eyes closed and sighed, accepting the temporary defeat for what it was.

"It is his loss," a quiet voice interrupted her solemn thoughts. Hermione opened her eyes to find Draco peering down at her. Sian and Lavender had moved away enough to grant them privacy, but close enough to stand guard over their Alpha and Lupa.

Hermione blinked up at him as the carefully constructed mask fell away to reveal her grief, for there was no need to hide around him. "I promised change," she whispered as he pulled her into his chest. "But good does it do, if isn't for everyone?"

"He's getting older, which means he's slowing down," Draco replied over her head. "Eventually, a new Alpha will take his place, and then we can return." A hand soothed her wild hair away from her face as she looked up at him. A faded scar from his tumultuous start as a werewolf ran down from his brow to his cheekbone. She lifted a hand to touch the faded scar, and all it represented, and watched as clear grey eyes closed. He gave a soft smile and replied, "You cannot save us all, love."

Hermione found solace as she leaned into his touch. "I will try."

"I know."

"Two sentries have posted behind you, my Lupa. There, just beyond the tree line." Sian rushed forward to the mated pair, interrupting their quiet moment. Sian peered into the darkness, her eye trained on something Hermione could not see. Draco gripped her arm tighter. "I think it's time we took our leave of Ariel's territory," Sian offered.

Here, her mate smiled as his hand lowered to captured hers. "Home?"

She nodded in response, his anticipation contagious. "Home," she agreed.

The group of four Apparated away from the dense forest before appearing beside the Shrieking Shack on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. The quaint village enjoyed a quiet snowfall as the group rushed passed the boundaries of the dilapidated building. They shared a look, an equal mix of joy and longing, before taking off at a run for the Forbidden Forest. They were eager to be back home.

* * *

From her perch on the large tree root that overlooked the valley below, Hermione watched her children play. She spied Lyra instructing a group of women, while her sisters, Saria and Cassie, watched from the sidelines. Scanning her head to the left, she spied Leo and Scorpius trailing behind Zachary, whom they considered an older brother. Around them and with them, her children played among the pack, dimly aware of the world that existed beyond the forest border and the village nearby. Since their return to the Forbidden Forest all those years ago, her children had been mostly confined to the middle of a circle of tents that lined the valley below.

The trust between their pack and her was implicit, but palpable. Her pups were safe, here.

As the "wolf-pack three," as they were affectionately called, were joined by their younger brother, and a younger sister, Hermione watched, fascinated, as her children injected new life into Malfoy's pack and the  _Loup Garou_.

"Thinking about having another?"

The smile was instantaneous the moment she heard it: the smooth tenor of her mate's voice. Even after all this time, his voice made her quiver. His words should not have caused her womb to ache, but they did. "What, five isn't enough?" she called as he approached her from behind.

A set of arms, affixed with scars, ensnared her waist until she was securely pulled against a chest. "I could never tire of you gifting me pups. You never looked more beautiful than when you carried my children, Hermione. Have I told you that?" Draco whispered into her ear. The blond scruff on his chin tickled her neck as she squirmed away from the sensation. Two years ago, he'd begun growing the facial hair out, content to let it be. She found the new style cavalier and inviting.

"If labor is such a gift, you should try it," she replied dryly to the werewolf at her back.

"Yet the result is the sweetest gift of all."

It had been, they both agreed. Motherhood brought her to somewhere she hadn't been before, and the journey started well before her first pups took their first breath. She had been protective of her friends and loved ones, but now, she knew, there was a darkness that waited beneath the surface. It was a boundary she would easily breach for her pack, for her mate, but especially for their children.

"We'll see what the future brings," she cryptically responded. "But I am content for now."

"Hmm. For now," he echoed her words.

Maybe it was the wolf's blood, courtesy of carrying a werewolf's pups, that set her on edge. But despite ten years' of peace, Hermione felt a stirring in her bones.

She turned in his embrace to peer into the thick of the forest behind them. A dreary fog had settled over the forest floor and the eerie mist would not dissipate. "The wind is colder. Can you feel it?" she burrowed into Draco's arms. For ten years, they had been cocooned behind a cover of trees. No matter how many times she ventured into the Wizarding world, she was uncomfortable until she returned home, to him and to their family.

He confirmed her premonition as arms pulled her tigher to him. "Yes," he offered quietly.

Hermione nodded, and replied, "It's disconcerting. There's been a shift in the wind, yet it has nothing to do with the change in the seasons."

Draco pushed his nose deep into the crook of her neck and inhaled her scent. "Whatever is coming, we will face it together." He slowly licked her neck from the base of her neck to the underside of her ear, causing her to shiver involuntarily. "Are you still upset after the incident with the Delphi pack?"

Hermione reached up to pull his head down. Her fingers languidly combed through his hair. She grinned as she kissed him long and slow. Her eyes fluttered open to take in the bright silver of his eyes. She knew these eyes in the throes of heat, and in depths of anger. Through it all, he was painfully beautiful and he was hers. "Care to join me for a swim?" She stood from the warmth of his embrace and together, they began a slow gait through the trees. She knew these trees, and this ground intimately. It was home.

"I'm not upset over the Delphi pack," she replied, carefully. "I'd considered Ariel a good candidate for the Wizengamot, but I should have know it takes time for generations of distrust to dissolve completely."

Beside her Draco shrugged. "He is an old fool," he said simply. "But he believes he is doing what's best for his pack. I cannot begrudge him that."

When they approached the river bank, she removed her shift and stepped out of her jeans, a Muggle habit she would never truly be rid of. Despite her mate and pack's affinity to sometimes go without, she'd always maintained a pair of worn jeans. Free of her clothes, she covered her breasts with one hand (silly enough as it was). Her breasts weighed heavier than before, but nursing had an effect on the body. She dove head-long into the cool river that emptied into Hogwarts' Great Lake, assured Draco followed behind. Scotland's frigid temperatures did little to impact her physically, courtesy of the wolf's blood coursing her veins.

Draco pulled away the hand that covered her breasts, a question in his eye.

"Three separate pregnancies, including one of multiples, will do that to you," she said to the night sky, uncharacteristically self-concious.

"This beautiful body gave me the most precious gift I could ever ask for," he replied as he pulled her deeper into the calm river. "I couldn't find you more attractive. Even now." What he could not say, he told her through touch, caress, and taste. Their story was an shared history of loss, love, and renewal: one only they truly knew. Others in their pack knew parts of the story, but never the complete picture. He pulled back to look down at her. "Is this some terrible trick?" he whispered, as his thumb lifted her chin. She knew this fear, too. Her mate was not immune from nightmares. Oftentimes, he would awake in the middle of the night and pull her so tight to him that she'd bruise. Only after she'd reassured him that she was real, would he tell her of his dream that the past ten years had not real. He would find her and their family gone, and he would be terrorized under Fenrir. He admitted to her that the fear was never far from his mind.

Her eyes softened as she placed her hands around his neck and stroked the back of his ears. "It isn't, love. And if it was, then I will find you. Again and again, until you know that I'm real. That this is real." She lifted to brush her lips against his.

The waters softly lapped around their waist. "You saved me from a fate worse than death, Hermione."

Hermione shuddered, her brows drawn down in concern. "Please. I don't like it when you talk about that." Once, they'd been surrounded by death, and the constant threat of it. It was not something she wished to experience for a very, very long time. She lay her head on his shoulder, content to listen to the calming current of the river.

"What? Death?" He shrugged the shoulder she rested on. "It is a part of life."

"Then I would fight Hades himself to bring you back," she murmured against his skin. She gripped his shoulders, taunt with muscle and old scars. "Do you know that?"

He smirked down at her, though she could not see it. "I know you would try."

"I would win," she smiled before sinking below the surface of the October river. She pulled him down with her.

 


	3. Chapter Three

 

* * *

"We're going to be late." Zachary, the nineteen-year-old werewolf, sulked as he and Lavender Brown watched their Lupa and Alpha disappear beneath the murky waters of the vast river. " _Again_ ," her watch partner lamented.

Lavender rolled her eyes in agreement but said nothing to that effect. "Really, the Council doesn't truly begin until they join us, so…" she let the rest of the sentence hang as Zachary quickly put one and one together.

"I guess you have a point," her partner replied. "But still, they know we have a meeting tonight. It's awfully rude to leave us to wait while they do …" He lifted a hand to the mated pair entangled with each other on the river banks below. "….that."

Lavender was thrown into laughter as she leaned against a tree and smiled at the young man across her. After their pack had returned to the Forbidden Forest, Zachary had been the first werewolf to attend Hogwarts. She was proud of the example he set for the younglings who would follow behind him, and now, he sat on their Alpha's Council. "Fuck, you mean?" She smirked, enjoying how she could track the blush coloring his face even in the dark. "How many full moons have you experienced with the pack by now, Zachary? I think your time away at Hogwarts may have dulled your senses."

Zachary ducked his head as he scratched the back of his neck. "I haven't forgotten," he nearly mumbled. "It's just wasn't on my radar then."

Lavender pushed off the tree, intrigued, as she encouraged him to explain, "And now?"

"Well, I can't turn around without bloody thinking about it," he muttered to the earth.

"You're a male werewolf entering his prime," she said matter-of-factly. "I would imagine so."

He swallowed and wiped his palms against the seat of his jeans. "Yeah." He threw his head to the river below, "Are they finished?"

Oblivious to his discomfort, Lavender peered over the embankment when he made no move to do so. "Looks like it. Ready to head back?"

Zachary nodded and the pair made the easy trek into the thick of the forest. Uncomfortable with the silence, Lavender asked out of the blue, "Have you talked with 'the wolfpack three' about your time at Hogwarts?"

The sandy-haired youth shook his head. "Alpha doesn't want me to just yet. I imagine he wants to talk with them first. It shouldn't be … what is it?" he asked sharply as Lavender veered sharply away from him.

Lavender knew they needed to get back, but her sensitive hearing picked up a disturbance. Somewhere beyond the forest, someone was screaming. Her heartbeat quickened as she whispered, unsure if Zachary followed behind her or not. "Do you hear it?" Her pace quickened as she leaped over tree roots and the damp forest floor. The closer she came to the line that separated the forest from the nearby wizarding village, the screams became more distinct. Her wand dropped into her hand as her senses went on full alert.

"Lavender…" Zachary pulled on her elbow, his voice full of concern. He heard the screams by now. He had to. He threw his head up towards Hogsmeade in the distance. "Aren't we near our potion shoppe?"

They crouched behind the large trees, unwilling to move any further, unsure as chaos broke out at the village ahead. They were indeed close to the werewolf-run potion ingredients shoppe their pack opened ten years ago. The idea was Hermione's and was one step in bridging werewolf-wizarding relations. Now, frantic villagers gathered around High Street, yelling something she could not hear from her perch.

"I can't tell," Lavender admitted. What her eyes could not discern, Lavender honed her ears to pick up. Someone had been gravely hurt. Then the two werewolves heard a distinct shout that cut to the bone.

"Werewolf!" a villager yelled.

Lavender and Zachary immediately backed away from the tree. Both unconsciously moved deeper into the forest. "We need to get back. Now," Lavender whispered as her heart fell into her stomach, sour and heavy.

Zachary didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

"Were you able to see who it was?" Hermione questioned as she ran a hand through her hair. It would have been easy to jump into a panic, seeing how there little in the way of disturbances over the past ten years. The hair on the back of her neck certainly stood on end, indicating the start the instinctual fight or flight response, but Hermione sought the root of the problem before jumping to conclusions. When Zachary and Lavender skidded into their meeting, interrupting Council business with news about an attack at Hogsmeade, Hermione had to temper the instinctual response as the werewolves around her went on full alert.

Lavender shook her head from her place in the small circle. Besides the blonde werewolf, Zachary, Draco, Sian, and herself completed the elusive group. "I didn't think it was wise to expose ourselves any more than necessary," Lavender replied. "But it was clear. There was a mob forming in short order."

"Someone shouted, 'werewolf,' as if they knew it was one of us. Will they come to the forest looking for us?" Zachary asked the group, his youth and inexperience betraying his fear at the moment.

Hermione's hardened glance softened as she took in the young werewolf's fear. "If they're wise, they will not," she reassured him. Surprisingly, it came as natural as when soothing her children. She doted upon Zachary as she did her own blood. She looked around to the Council. "But it would behoove us to meet them before any rumors could spread." Surely, that's all it was. Rumors.

Sian shook her head. "To them, it would look like we were purposefully trying to hide something." The small Council knew who constituted 'them:' everyone who wasn't pack.

"We should be looking for the werewolf who did it!" Lavender put in. "Whatever it was!"

"How do you know it was a werewolf?" Draco asked from his crouch on the ground. He was only one who did not stand in the group.

"I assumed the villager would know if he shouted it," Lavender replied. "We've been working in Hogsmeade for nearly ten years now. There are only, but so many of us."

"Whoever they're looking for, isn't one of ours," Hermione stressed. She met everyone's eyes before announcing confidently, "We would know it."

Draco stood from his crouch to softly remind her, "It wouldn't be the first time we've been betrayed from within."

Lavender cleared her throat, in effort to move on from things better left unsaid. "Then we wake everyone now. We're all here. We can root out the culprit."

Sian sneered at this, before turning to Hermione. "Do this, Lupa, and you will lose the  _Loup Garou_."

Still interlocked with Draco's gaze, Hermione shook her head. "That isn't the best course. It would signal to pack that we doubt them." Here, she turned to Lavender. "Once that happens, we'd lose them for good."

Lavender pressed back, "You'd leave our children's safety up to chance, then?" Draco growled in warning, but Lavender met his silver stare head-on. He wouldn't have made her his second-in-command if he didn't value her counsel, so she advocated the position again and forced them to accept the totality of their decision. "Because that's what this means."

It was Hermione who replied instead, "The pack has always kept our children safe, and if someone has betrayed us, then I have full faith that the pack would come to our aid."

"Besides if you hide the younglings away, they would gather something's amiss," Zachary finished quietly beside Lavender.

"The  _Loup Garou_  has never betrayed you, Lupa. Place the children in our care and we will ensure their safety," Sian announced firmly.

Lavender and Draco narrowed their eyes at the pink-haired werewolf. She may have had a point, but the old wounds that resurfaced from the reminder were sharp and still as severe.

"So, you don't trust our pack then? Her mate, and your Alpha's pack?" Lavender stepped forward in an unspoken challenge.

Sian shrugged but stepped forward as well as an unnatural cold settled over the group. "I did not say that, but I speak the truth."

"I can show you the  _truth_  of the matter…" Lavender halted when Hermione placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Please," she begged with her eyes. "This is not the time to quarrel among ourselves. The pack,  _both of them_ , have done nothing to question our trust. No one new has joined in years. We know and trust each other," she emphasized to Lavender and her second-in-command, Sian. It took several moments, but Lavender backed away to stand near Draco. The pair of blonds made for a twin picture of discontent, but they would not explore this route further. Taking a deep breath, Hermione explained, "We need to speak to the villagers as soon as possible. If we make an overture that we are willing to help, then it may allay any suspicions they might have had."

"So, they scream in fear and we come running like the good 'dog' that we are?" Draco asked icily with a lifted brow. He crossed his arms to mirror Lavender's similar stance.

That hurt. She knew he didn't mean it, not truly, but to echo the Ariel Delphi's earlier sentiments stung. Internally, she swallowed the ugly emotion and lifted a mirrored brow back at him. She knew what it meant to show weakness among kin. "No. We show them that we possess humanity as much as they do. It's the right thing to do."

Quiet, tense moments passed as Alpha and Lupa warred on who would break first.

"Lavender and I will go at first light to the village tomorrow," Draco suddenly announced to the Council. "You and Sian can stay to mind the others."

"It should be all of us," Hermione countered, even though something in her gut told her she would lose this fight.

Draco's eyes glittered in the moonlight. There was more he wanted to say on the matter, she could tell, but he would not say them aloud. His jaw worked around his anger. "Our children will need their mother close by," was all he could say before turning, abruptly signaling an end to their Council meeting. "Zachary?" he called for the youngest among them as he moved away.

The young werewolf briefly caught eyes with Hermione before trotting off to catch up with his Alpha. She exhaled the anger through her nose. Little was said after that, as plans were hastily made. The key was to project calm before the rumors from the village inevitably made its way through their pack. They would get out ahead of this mess first, it was decided.

After, Hermione marched alone back to their tent hidden among the large tree roots. Her anger did not abate as she waited for her mate to return on whatever rendezvous he took Zachary on. She paced, she ran through counter-arguments, but she was utterly unprepared the moment the father of her children ducked through the entryway of the tent. He pushed past fabric of the doorway and met her fury head on.

Taking a deep breath, Draco grated lowly, "I will not leave our children unprotected."

Hermione held her ground in the middle of the tent. She simultaneously wanted to run into his arms and slap him at the same time. "They will be safe here, and you know it."

He cocked his head at her, testing her resolve. "Do we? Sian may be brash, but she has a point. We have suffered a betrayal before."

Hermione bit her lip to keep from raising her voice. "And now, you've validated her point by ordering me to stay behind. What kind of message does that send, Draco?"

"What's wrong with making sure our children are protected?" He turned from her and began to undress. She'd witnessed this routine thousand of times over the years. Methodically, he would unfasten his wand holster from his chest. Then he would remove his trousers. That he would so casually turn from her to begin something so benign made her inexplicably furious.

"What's wrong with me accompanying you to the village tomorrow?" she countered to his bare back. She did not visually trace the scars found there, as was her secret habit.

"So, our children's safety is less important than werewolf-wizarding relations, you mean?"

She reeled back as if physically struck. In a low voice, she grated, "That isn't fair, and you know it. Of course, our children's well-being means more to me than anything in this world. But we have a balance to maintain: here, with our pack, and yes, in their world, too."

He placed his wand and clothes on her reading desk. "I can manage it, you know. I managed fine before you came along."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Draco shut down before her, but she would not have any of it. She grabbed his elbow and forced him to look at her. "No. You don't get to throw something like that out there and not explain yourself." She took up all of his personal space and dared him not to respond. "What does that mean?"

He looked down at her defiance, before lifting a hand to cup her face. A long finger traced the outline of her lower lip. Softly, he answered, "It means, I can handle the Hogsmeade visit tomorrow. I've experience in treating with others. I'll manage. I need you and our children to be safe. I couldn't stand it if something were to happen to you, or to them. I did it once. Do not ask me to do it again." His eyes flashed in memory, and quickly she sought to anchor him in the here and now.

She reached up to take a hold of his face, forcing his wild eyes to meet hers. "We will be fine. I promise you." She peered up at him closely. Something about what he said earlier still weighed upon her… "Does it bother you that Sian defers to me more than she does to you?" she gently asked.

He smirked as his hand ran behind her ear and up into wild curls. "I understand werewolf dynamics more than you, mate. It does not bother me." He tugged on her hair with enough force to tilt her head back. Her bare neck was exposed to him.

She eagerly accepted the submissive role as reasserted his dominance. Her eyes fluttered closed as he pressed cool lips to her neck. Quick nips and small licks to delicate skin made it hard to reply. With great difficulty, she replied, "Except when she reminds you of Greyson and Clara."

He growled into the intersection of her neck and shoulder and her womb clenched in response. "Who wants to be reminded of their failures?" he spoke into her skin.

She held onto his shoulders for purchase as her knees weakened. "Is that why you don't want me to accompany you tomorrow? Because Sian's words have merit?"

He looked up from lavishing her neck to meet her eyes. "I'm not changing my mind, mate."

She awkwardly nodded her head, though it remained tight within his grasp. "I know. But that doesn't answer my question."

He released her head, and gently massaged her scalp. "We'll be back after we've met with the villagers."

Hermione opened her mouth to press the issue further but knew there was no changing his mind now. Sighing, she leaned forward into his embrace. "I promise we'll be safe."

He pulled her head close to his chest. His elevated heartbeat should have been enough to calm her worried thoughts, but it wasn't.

"I don't like this," she whispered as she ran her fingertips over his heart.

"Neither do I. Tell the children where I've gone?" he requested.

She nodded against his chest. "I'll explain this to them in the morning."

 


End file.
